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Who  Burned  Columbia? 

Hampton 


THE  NO  NAME  MAGAZINE, 

A MONTHLY  FOR  ALL  READERS. 


VOL  II 


BALTIMORE,  APRIL,  1891. 


NO.  7 


WHO  BURNED  COLUMBIA? 

By  Gen,  Wade  Hampton. 


On  the  night  of  the  16th  of  February,  1865, 

I received  a dispatch  from  Jefferson  Davis, 
announcing  my  promotion  to  the  position  of 
Lieutenant-General,  and  directing  me  to  as- 
sume command  of  all  the  Confederate  cav- 
alry in  South  Carolina.  Gen.  Beauregard 
was  the  Commander-in-Chief.  My  com- 
mand consisted  of  Wheeler’s  corps  of  cav- 
alry and  a division  of  cavalry  under  Gen. 
M.  C.  Butlei,  amounting  in  all  to  a little 
more  than  4000  men,  when  Sherman  ad- 
vanced on  the  city  with  75,000  men.  The 
only  attempt  to  check  the  advance  of  the 
Federal  troops  was  made  at  Congeree 
Creek  by  Gen.  Butler,  who  had  under  his 
command  a few  of  his  own  and  Wheeler’s 
men  and  a small  Kentucky  brigade  under 
Breckenridge,  the  whole  number  not  ex- 
ceeding 600  men.  This  affair  occurred  on 
the  15th,  after  which  the  advance  of  Sher- 
man was  undisputed. 

The  Federal  army  arrived  in  front  of 
Columbia  on  the  16th,  and  without  any  warn- 
ing began  to  shell  the  town  in  every  direc- 
tion. Hunt’s  hotel,  where  Gen.  Beauregard 
had  his  head  quarters,  was  struck  by  a shell; 
two  or  three  shells  struck  the  workshops, 
one  passed  through  the  old  Courthouse,  and 
three  struck  the  new  State-house.  Some  of 
the  shells  were  thrown  as  far  as  the  Char- 
lotte road,  which  is  two  miles  from  the 
river,  and  some  passed  near  the  asylum, 
which  is  the  northeastern  boundary  of  the 
city.  The  shelling  took  place  early  on  the 
morning  of  the  16th,  and  during  that  night 
the  Federal  troops  commenced  thepassage 
of  the  river.  On  the  morning  of  the  17th,  I 


directed  the  officers,  under  my  command  to 
withdraw  their  men  from  Columbia  and  its 
vicinity,  as  the  city  was  to  be  surrendered 
and  no  offensive  acts  were  to  be  committed, 
The  Confederate  troops  I ordered  to  be 
moved  to  Winnsboro. 

When  Gen.  Beauregard  was  advised  of 
what  had  been  done  he  left  the  city  and 
also  went  off  towards  Winnsboro,  feeling 
quite  unwell  at  the  time.  I then  instructed 
the  Mayor  of  Columbia,  Dr.  T.  I.  Goodwin, 
to  send  out  a flag  of  truce  to  meet  the 
advanced  guard  of  Sherman’s  army  to  an- 
nounce that  the  city  was  evacuated 
and  that  he  (the  Mayor)  had  come  out  to 
surrender  it.  This  was  about  eight  o’clock 
on  the  morning  of  the  17th.  I gave  the 
Mayor  directions  how  to  proceed,  where  to 
go,  and  what  he  was  to  do.  I then  called 
his  attention  to  the  cotton  that  was  lying 
along  Richardson  St.,  and  recommended 
that  he  should  put  a guard  over  it,  telling 
him  there  was  danger  it  might  take  fire,  and 
that  if  it  did  so,  it  would  endanger  the  city. 
This  cotton  had  been  removed  from  the 
warehouses  where  it  had  been  stored,  in 
order  to  transport  it  to  the  open  fields  ad- 
joining the  city,  where  it  might  be  burned, 
but  finding  there  was  not  sufficient  means 
for  transportation,  it  was  left  on  Richardson 
St.  The  Mayor,  with  a flag  of  truce,  met 
the  leading  column  of  the  Federal  army, 
composed  of  Stone’s  brigade,  and  surren- 
dered the  city.  I had  moved  out  by  the 
Asylum  road  with  one  of  Butler’s  brigades, 
and  stationed  myself  at  the  upper  boundary 
street,  facing  towards  Richardson  St,,  from 


Entered  at  Baltimore  Post-Office  as  Second-Class  Matter. 


91 


THE  NO  NAME  MAGAZINE. 


which  position,  I commanded  a view  of  the 
whole  town  and  vicinity.  I saw  the  Mayor 
come  back  with  the  flag,  and  surrounded 
by  columns  of  troops. 

The  Federal  troops  entered  Columbia 
about  io  A.  M.  on  the  17th  of  February,  an 
hour  or  two  after  the  conversation  with  the 
Mayor  about  the  cotton.  There  were  no 
Confederate  troops  in  Columbia  when  the 
Federal  army  entered.  I was  the  last  officer 
in  town,  and  I left  just  prior  to  the  entry 
of  the  Federal  army.  I assert  positively 
that  -up  to  that  time , there  were  no  fires  in 
progress  in  Columbia.  On  the  14th  of  Feb- 
ruary, Gen.  Beauregard  issued  an  order  to 
Major  Allen  J.  Green,  post  commander,  to 
have  the  cotton  moved  out  of  the  ware 
houses  to  a place  where  it  could  be  burned 
without  endangering  the  town.  Not  having 
the  transportation  at  his  disposal,  Major 
Green  had  placed  it  in  the  street.  On  the 
night  of  the  16th,  when  I was  assigned  to 
duty  at  Columbia,  I called  Gen.  Beaure- 
gard’s attention  to  the  position  of  the  cotton, 
telling  him  if  it  were  burned  it  would  endan- 
ger the  town  and  urged  him  to  order  that  the 
cotton  should  not  be  burned.  This  he  did. 
The  order  not  to  fire  the  cotton  was  faithfully 
carried  out  by  the  Confederates.  I know 
this  from  my  own  personal  observations, 
and  from  official  investigation.  In  support 
of  this  I produce  the  affidavits  of  Confeder- 
ate officers  who  were  directly  connected 
with  and  cognizant  of  the  whole  affair, 
Captain  Rawlings  Lowndes,  who  was  my 
assistant  adjutant-general,  made  a state- 
ment to  Chancellor  Carroll,  who  was  Chair- 
man of  the  Committee  appointed  to  inves- 
tigate the  facts  connected  with  the  burning 
of  Columbia,  in  W/hich  he  says  that,  after  I 
assumed  command  of  the  cavalry,  on  the 
morning  of  the  17th  of  February,  I told  him 
that  Gen  Beauregard  had  determined  not 
to  fire  the  cotton,  and  that  I directed  him  _ 
to  issue  an  order  that  no  cotton  should  be 
fired.  “This  T did  at  once,”  says  Lowndes, 
“and  when  I left  Columbia,  which  I did  af- 
ter the  entrance  of  the  Federal  troops,  not 
one  bale  of  cotton  had  been  burned,  nor 


had  any  been  fired  by  our  troops  at  the  time 
I was  acting  as  assistant  adjutant  genera 
for  Gen.  Hampton.” 

Gen.  M.  C.  Butler,  who  was  a division 
commander  under  me,  swears  that  he  with- 
drew from  Columbia  about  10  A.  M.  on  the 
17th  of  February,  just  as  the  advance  of  the 
Federal  army  had  reached  the  suburbs  of 
the  town;  that  no  cotton  was  burning  when 
he  left,  as  far  as  he  could  observe,  and  none 
would  have  been  fired  without  his  order; 
that  he  remained  in  the  vicinity  of  the  city 
for  ten  hours  after  it  had  been  occupied  by 
the  Federal  troops,  and  when  he  left  he 
could  see  no  evidence  of  cotton  burning. 
He  further  says  that  “Lieut  -Gen.  Hampton, 
on  the  morning  of  the  evacuation,  had  di- 
rected him  that  the  cotton  must  not  be  fired, 
in  as  much  as  the  Mayor  had  gone  out  to 
meet  Gen.  Sherman  to  surrender  the  city 
aud  ask  his  protection.”  Gen.  Butler  fur- 
therstates  that  the  Confederates  retired 
from  the  city  quietly,  without  firing  or  doing 
anything  which  would  provoke  and  justify 
violence  on  the  part  of  the  troops  coining 
in. 

From  the  affidavits  of  the  Mayor  of  the 
city  and  other  citizens,  and  from  my 
own  observation,  I am  quite  certain  that 
the  cotton  was  not  fired  by  the  Confederate 
troops,  but  that  it  caught  fire  from  the 
smoking  of  the  Federal  soldiers  who  stacked 
their  arms  when  they  came  in  and  sat  down 
on  the  cotton.  There  had  been  no  fires  in 
Columbia  within  forty-eight  hours  prior  to 
the  entrance  of  the  Federal  troops,  except 
that  at  the  Charleston  depot,  which  acci- 
dently caught  fire  early  ou  the  morning  of 
the  17th.  In  confirmation  of  my  statement 
that  the  Charleston  depot  was  accidentally 
burned,  I quote  the  following  correspon- 
dence between  Gen.  Beauregard  and  myself 
on  the  subject  : 

Wild  Woods,  Miss.,  Apr.  22,  ’66. 

General  : — Gen.  Sherman,  having  charg- 
ed me  in  his  official  report  with  the  destruc- 
tion of  Columbia,  and  having  reiterated 
the  same  falsehood  in  a letter  to  Benjamin 
Rawlings  of  that  city,  may  I beg  you  to 
state  such  facts  in  reference  to  this  matter 


THE  NO  NAME  MAGAZINE. 


92 


as  are  in  your  possession.  You  were  in 
command  of  the  Confederate  troops  when 
Sherman  entered  the  city;  you  left  just  be- 
fore he  occupied  it,  and  you  gave  orders 
not  only  as  to  the  movements  of  the  troops, 
but  as  to  the  disposition  of  all  the  public 
property,  as  well  as  of  the  cotton  which  was 
in  the  city.  You  were  therefore  fully  cogni- 
zant of  all  facts  relating  to  the  burning  of 
the  cicy  and  you  can  state  with  entire  cer- 
tainty who  was  answerable  for  this  atrocious 
crime.  I am  very  respectfully  yours, 

Wade  Hampton. 
To  Gen.  G.  T.  Beauregard.” 

On  the  above  letter  Gen.  Beauregard 
wrote  the  following  endorsement  : 

•‘New  Orleans,  May  2,  ’66. 

The  above  statement  of  Gen.  Wade 
Hampton  relative  to  the  orders  issued  by 
me  at  Columbia,  S.  C.,  not  to  burn  cotton 
in  that  eity,  is  perfectly  true  and  correct. 
The  only  thing  on  fire  at  the  time  of  the 
evacuation  was  the  depot  building  of  the 
South  Carolina  Railrpad,  which  caught  fire 
accidentally  from  the  explosion  of  some  am- 
munition ordered  to  be  sent  towards  Char- 
lotte. 

G.  T.  Beauregard  ” 

The  city  of  Columbia  was  perfectly  quiet 
and  orderly  prior  to  the  entry  of  Sherman’s 
army;  there  was  no  burning  or  marauding 
in  the  streets;  the  negroes  were  quietly 
working  on  fortifications,  and  there  was  no 
disorderly  element  to  disturb  the  quiet  and 
peace  of  the  city. 

I had  no  idea  that  Gen  Sherman,  or  anyone 
else  would  have  denied  that  the  Federal 
troops  had  burnt  the  city,  until  I saw  Sher- 
man’s report  in  which  he  states  that  the  cot- 
ton that  I had  ordered  to  be  piled  in  the  street 
and  which  had  been  set  on  fire  by  my  orders 
set  fire  to  the  town.  The  citizens  of  Columbia 
were  very  indignant  at  this  charge  of  Gen, 
Sherman,  and  they  called  a public  meeting 
and  appointed  a very  large  committee,  of 
which  Chancellor  Garroll  was  made  chair- 
man, to  collect  testimony  as  to  facts.  They 
did  collect  facts  from  Mayor  Goodwin  and 
other  leading  citizens.  Among  others  who 
testified  in  regard  to  this  matter,  was  a 
negro  named  Wm.  Beverly  Mash,  who  was 
afterwards  a senator  from  Richmond,  county 
S.  C.,  and  a delegate  to  the  Philadelphia 


Convention  which  nominated  Gen.  Grant. 
He  made  an  affidavit  that  the  Federal  troops 
did  fire  the  city  of  Columbia,  and  that  ‘‘Gen. 
Hampton  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.”  In  the 
published  correspondence  of  Gen.  Sherman 
there  is  a letter  from  Gen.  Hallack  in  which 
he  expresses  a wish  that  if  Sherman  took 
Charleston  by  some  accident  the  city  should 
be  destroyed,  and  that  if  Sherman  would 
sow  it  with  salt,  it  might  prevent  the  growth 
of  future  crops  of  nullification  and  secession, 
to  which  Gen.  Sherman  replied  that  he  had 
noticed  what  Gen.  Hallack  had  said  about 
Charleston,  and,  that  when  he  entered  that 
city  the  Fifteenth  Corps  would  be  on  the 
right  wing  and  so  enter  the  city  first,  and,  if 
Gen.  Hallack  had  observed  the  course  of 
that  corps  during  the  war,  he  must  have  ob- 
served that  it  generally  did  its  work  pretty 
well,  and  he  did  not  think  an  assault  would 
be  necessary,  that  he  thought  Columbia  was 
as  bad  as  Charleston,  and  he  doubted  if  he 
would  spare  the  public  buildings  there. 

Mr,  Whitelaw  Reid,  in  his  work,  ‘‘Ohio  in 
the  War,”  thus  alludes  to  the  burning  of 
Columbia:  “At  nightfall  there  suddenly 
came  cries  of  alarm  from  different  quarters. 
The  city  was  on  fire  in  as  many  places,  and 
before  morning  Columbia  was  in  ruins; 
thousands  of  helpless  women  and  children 
were  suddenly  made  homeless  in  an  hour, 
in. the  night,  in  the  winter.  It  was  the  most 
monstrous  barbarity  of  that  barbarous 
march.  There  is  no  reason  to  think  that 
Gen.  Sherman  knew  anything  of  the  pur- 
pose to  burn  the  city,  which  had  been  freely 
talked  about  among  the  soldiers  through 
the  afternoon,  but  there  is  reason  to  think 
that  he  knew  well  enough  who  did  it,  that 
he  never  rebuked  it  and  made  no  effort  to 
punish  it.  Instead,  he  sought  indeed,  to 
show  that  the  enemy  himself  had  burned 
his  own  city,  ‘not  with  malicious  intent,  but 
from  folly  and  want  of  sense.’  Yet,  in  the 
same  paragraph,  he  admits  everything,  ex- 
cept the  original  starting  of  the  fire.  Officers 
and  men  not  on  duty,  including  the  officers 
who  had  long  been  imprisoned  there,  may 


p /S  /I  Q o : 


93 


THE  NO  NAME  MAGAZINE. 


have  assisted  in  spreading  the  fire,  and  may 
have  indulged  in  unconcealed  joy  at  seeing 
the  ruins  of  the  capital  of  South  Carolina.” 

In  a conversation  which  I had  with  Gen. 
Howard , he  said  that  his  (Howard's)  troops 
burned  the  city.  This  conversation  took 
place  in  the  Executive  Office  of  the  Hon. 
Jas.  L.  Orr,  at  that  time  Governor  of  South 
Carolina.  Gen.  Howard  introduced  the 
subject  of  the  burning  of  Columbia,  and  ex- 
pressed great  regret  that  it  had  been  done; 
he  said  that  he  did  all  he  could  to  prevent  it> 
and  that  no  one  was  certainly  authorized 
to  say  that  our  troops  (the  Federal)  did  not 
set  fire  to  it, for  I saw  them  do  it  myself.”  At 
this  interview  with  Gen.  Howard  there  were 
present  Gen.  John  S.  Preston,  Gen.  Scott> 
who  was  afterwards  the  Carpet  Bag  Gover- 
nor of  South  Carolina,  and  Mr.  De  Fontaine 
a newspaper  correspondent.  Gov-  Orr, 
afterwards  wrote  to  me  in  relation  to  the 
interview,  “I  do  not  remember  all  that  was 
said,  but  Gen.  Howard  said  in  substance 
that  Columbia  was  burned  by  United  States 
troops;  that  he  saw  them  fire  many  houses, 
that  he  tried  to  arrest  the  conflagration, and 
that  he  regretted  the  destruction  of  the 
city.”  Gen.  Preston  wrote  on  this  subject 
in  a letter  of  Jan.  2,  1873,  “Gen.  Howard 
said  and  reiterated  it,  that  no  one  was  auth- 
orized to  say  that  the  Federal  troops  did 
not  burn  Columbia,  that  he  saw  them  doing 
so  in  numerous  instances  and  in  various  lo- 
calities in  the  city.” 

Dr  Goodwin,  the  Nffiyor  of  Columbia  at 
the  time  of  its  occupation  by  the  Federal 
troops,  in  his  affidavit,  testified  that  with  a 
number  of  leading  citizens  he  called  upon 
Gen.  Sherman  two  days  after  the  evacu- 
ation, and,  in  course  of  conversation  in  ref- 
erence to  the  burning  of  Columbia,  he  (Gen. 
Sherman,)  said  he  thought  his  troops  had 
burned  the  city,  but  excused  them  because, 
as  he  alleged,  the  citizens  had  given  them 
liquor  and  made  them  drunk,  whereas  they 
should  have  destroyed  all  the  liquor  in  the 
town  before  the  entry  of  the  army.  He  did 
not  make  any  assertion  that  the  firing  of 
the  city  was  caused  by  Gen.  Hampton’s  or- 
der to  burn  the  city.  Dr.  Goodwin  further 
stated  that  Gens,  Howard,  Blair,  aad  other 


Federal  officers  were  present  at  this  inter- 
view between  himself  and  Gen.  Sherman. 

In  conclusion,  I have  only  to  say  that  the 
practice  of  Gen.  Sherman,  in  his  march 
through  South  Carolina,  was  to  destroy  both 
public  and  private  property:  from  Columbia 
to  the  extreme  limits  of  the  state,  he  in  part 
or  entirely  destroyed  every  town  and  vil- 
lage he  passed;  Barnwell,  Blackwell,  Che- 
raw,  Allston,  Camden,  were  either  wholly 
or  partially  destroyed. 


YOUNG  AMERICA. 

This  is  the  children’s  age,  and  all  things 
are  subservient  to  their  wishes.  Masses  of 
juvenile  literature  are  published  annually 
for  their  amusement;  conversation  is  re- 
duced steadily  to  their  level  while  they  are 
present;  meals  are  arranged  to  suit  their 
hours,  and  the  dishes  thereof  to  suit  their 
palates;  studies  are  made  simpler  and  toys 
more  elaborate  with  each  succeeding  year. 
The  hardships  they  once  suffered  are  now 
happily  ended,  rapidly  the  decorum  once 
exacted  is  fading  away.  We  accept  the 
situation  with  philosophy,  and  only  now 
and  then,  under  the  pressure  of  some  new 
development,  are  startled  into  asking  our- 
selves where  it  is  likely  to  end.  Every 
year  we  see  the  counters  of  book-shops 
laden  with  piles  of  new  children’s  books 
made  attractive  with  all  the  accessories  of 
pretty  bindings  and  elaborate  illustrations, 
and  a text  of  more  or  less  harmless  vacuity. 
A large  part  of  the  juvenile  literature  of  the 
day  consists  in  describing  to  children  in 
profuse  detail  the  doings  and  sayings  of 
children  no  wiser  nor  better  than  them- 
selves, thus  perpetually  presenting  to  a 
child’s  mind  the  image  ofits  own  immatur- 
ity and  a repetition  of  its  own  fooiish  words 
and  still  more  foolish  actions.  There  is  no 
effort  to  stretch  its  imagination  or  stimulate 
its  curiosity  or  to  lift  it  quite  out  of  its  own 
little  corner  of  the  burdock  patch,  even  be- 
yond the  edge  of  the  parson’s  garden,  which 
the  little  duck  thought  was  the  end  of  the 
World.  Had  the  bright  young  Marjorie 
Fleming  been  starved  on  ‘Dotty  Dimple’ 
and  ‘Little  Prudy’  books,  we  might  have 
missed  the  quaintest  bit  of  autobiography 

in  the  English  language We  know 

that  in  the  window-seat  of  Cowley’s  moth- 
er’s room  lay  a copy  of  the  ‘Faerie  Queen,’ 
which  to  her  little  son  was  a source  of  un- 
failing delight,  and  Pope  has  recorded  the 
ecstasy  with  which  as  a lad  he  pored  over 
this  wonderful  poem;  but  then  neither  Cow- 
ley nor  Pope  had  the  advantages  of  follow- 
ing Oliver  Optic  through  the  slums  of  New 
York  or  living  with  some  adventurous  boy- 
hunters  in  the  jungles  of  Central  Africa. 


THE  NO  NAME  MAGAZINE. 


94 


TWO  VIEWS  OF  AN  AFTERNOON  TEA. 

By  Amy  D’Arcy  Wetmore. 


Life  would  be  so  easy  if  everything  one 
wished  to  know  the  meaning  of,  was  in  the 
dictionary,  but  unfortunately,  neither  Web- 
ster nor  Worcester  can  throw  any  light 
upon  a subject  so  modern  as  an  “Afternoon 
Tea.”  But  as  “Teas”  are  usually  given  to 
introduce  some  fair  debutante  into  the 
“giddy  world.”  her  opinion  is  at  least  worth 
asking.  She  will  tell  you,  that  a “tea,” 
when  she  is  asked  to  receive  at  it,  is  “simply 
lovely” — it  is  a chance  to  wear  such  a pretty 
gown.  A regular  party-diess  is  admissible, 
if  the  “tea”  is  a large  one,  and  she  need 
not  confine  heself  to  the  tiresome  black  net 
and  lace  dresses,  that  were  so  run  in  the 
ground  a few  years  ago.  She  will  add,  that 
when  men  are  asked,  and  when  they  come , 
a “Tea”  is  nearly  as  enjoyable  as  a German, 
and  far  more  independent.  That  even 
“girls’  teas”  axe  great  fun,  and  much  less 
formidable  than  a dinner  or  a lunch  though 
of  course  not  conferring  such  a compliment 
as  the  former  invitations,  and,  at  all  events, 
it  is  one  of  the  many  pleasures  of  a first 
winter. 

But,  as  truth  they  say  lies  between  two 
extremes,  a married  man’s  views,  as  a sharp 
contrast  to  a debutante’s  will  do  now.  “An 
Afternoon  Tea,”  he  will  sssure  you  is  an 
“abomination  of  desolation,”  if  he  knows 
enough  of  the  Bible  to  be  so  descriptive. 
It  is  a crowd,  and  a stuggle  form  the  time 
he  arrives  on  the  front  door-steps  with  his 
wife,— eager  for  the  fray,— until  he  is  once 
more  in  the  home  from  which  he  has  been 
so  cruelly  lured.  As  soon  as  he  enters  the 
front  door,  he  has  to  run  the  guantlet  of 
dress-coated  servants  and  this  is  only  the 
beginning  of  his  troubles;  the  dressing- 
room,  which  implies  a most  crowded  stair- 
way to  reach,  is  a perfect  pandemonium  of 
noise  and  confusion.  He  looks  at  his  wife 
in  awe  and  wonder,  to  see  how  she  enjoys 
being  pushed  and  shaking  hands  with,  as 
she  ascends  the  crowded  stairs,  Amiability 
is  detected  on  her  countenance.  He  wishes 


that  she  would  look  so,  when  he  takes  an 
extra  night  off  at  the  Club. 

He  does  not  realize  that  her  pretty  gown 
and  new  bonnet  are  great  helps  to  contend 
pleasantly  with  the  multitude.  He  is  not 
fortified  by  any  such  out-side  assistance. 
His  anger  and  indignation  wax  strong  in  the 
dressing-room  when  he  sees  his  unfortunate 
hat  and  coat  moved  and  knocked  about  in 
the  place  he  has  carefully  hidden  them; 
when  “Tom,  Dick  and  Harry,”  boys  he  is 
sure  wore  knickerbockers  a year  ago,  get 
in  his  way,  and  smoke  recklessly  in  this 
much  crowded  apartment.  He  meets  his 
wife  on  the  landing;  she  is  impatient  to  get 
down  stairs,  and  seems  to  be  gloating  over 
thejoys  that  are  to  come,  She  reproaches 
him  for  keeping  her  waiting, and  whispers  to 
him  to  try  and  look  more  pleasant.  So,  he 
assumes  a more  lamb-like  expression.  He 
is  in  for  it  now,  for  an  hour  or  so  at  the 
least,  and  he  hopes  that  a glass  or  two  of 
tea  punch  will  enable  him  to  stand  the 
wear  and  tear  of  the  noise  and  heat. 

The  hostess,  with  her  lovely  young 
daughter,  and  five  or  six  “buds”  of  the 
season,  stand  at  the  door  of  the  drawing- 
room to  make  the  entrance  and  introduc- 
tions as  easy  as  possible.  He  feels  rather 
better,  the  girls  are  so  lovely  in  their  pretty 
gowns;  holding  on  so  bravely  to  their  many 
flowers.  He  is  quite  revived  and  becomes  at 
once  complimentary, and  old  “married  man 
-y, ’’fancying  he  is  being  agreeable  when  he 
starts  a conversation  about  some  old  “dead 
and  past  good  times”  he  has  had  with  their 
mamas;  but  his  wife  pushes  him — other  peo- 
ple are  coming,  he  must  not  monopolize 
“Miss  Debutante.”  He  is  hurt,  but  then  a 
prophet  never  has  honor  among  his  own, 
and  he  is  restored  to  good  humor  by  seeing 
an  “old  sweetheart”  in  the  corner,  whom 
he  has  not  laid  eyes  on  for  ten  years,  Is  it 
possible  that  this  large,  matronly  person 
could  ever  have  been  the  sylph-like  crea- 
ture, as  he  remembers  her  early  in  the 


95 


THE  NO  NAME  MAGAZINE. 


seventies?  He  deserts  his  wife  now,  who 
does  not  miss  him,  as  she  eagerly  discusses 
kinder-gartens  and  cooks  with  Mrs.  Grey. 

The  old  sweet-heart  (although  she  has 
gained  at  least  fifty  pounds,)  has  still  some 
old  time  life  and  spirit  left,  and  receives 
him  figuratively  (of  course)  with  open  arms. 
He  cannot  find  a chair,  but  he  is  compara- 
tively sheltered  by  a stand  with  palms,  and 
fairy  lamps,  and  he  actually  begins  a ration- 
al conversation.  She  tells  him  with  pride 
that  her  daughter  is  thirteen  years  old,  and 
that  she  goes  to  dancing  school  with  his 
son.  He  says  gallantly  that  history  repeats 
itself.  How  much  more  he  would  have  said, 
he  does  not  know,  for  his  wife  spies  him  out 
in  his  happy  retreat,  and,  with  her  usual 
restlessness,  wishes  to  go  into  the  dining- 
room, and  suggests  that  the  old  “sweet- 
heart” should  accompany  them,  but  she  is 
wise  in  her  generation  and  prefers  her  cor- 
ner— for  are  there  not  others  in  the  rank  and 
file  of  the  present,  who  still  remember  her  in 
that  character?  The  dining-room  realizes 
all  his  worst  fears,  and  accents  his  gloomiest 
views  on  the  subject  of  “Teas”  as  an  en- 
tertainment. 

Two  or  three  pretty  girls  smooth  matters 
over  by  offering  to  wait  on  him,  (though  it 
makes  him  feel  older  and  more  married 
than  when  he  conversed  with  his  old 
“flame”  in  the  corner).  They  reck- 
lessly bring  him  a cup  of  tea  much  spilled> 
and  diluted  with  cream,  and  some  almonds, 
but  his  wife,  with  a good  deal  of  tact,  re- 
lieves him  of  these  articles,  and  substitutes 
instead  her  glass  of  cold  punch,  which 
makes  him  shiver  and  long  for  something 


at  the  club.  He  thinks  that  until  now, 
much  as  he  had  always  admired  his  wife, 
that  he  had  never  really  gauged  her  conver- 
sational powers.  She  talks  at  least  to  three 
different  people  on  widely  apart  subjects — 
all  at  the  same  time.  She  remembers  every- 
one, and  has  a pleasant  word  for  all.  But 
he  thinks  the  time  has  come  to  say  “fare- 
well to  all  this  glory.”  The  “old  sweet- 
heart” no  longer  sits  in  the  corner;  his 
wife,  however,  say  that  it  would  be  impos- 
sible to  leave  now,  that  it  would  appear 
rude  to  the  hostess.  This,  surely,  is  some- 
thing very  impolite,  “cut  out  of  the  whole 
cloth.  It  would  only  be  kind  to  the  givers 
of  the  feast  to  leave  room  and  breathing 
space  for  others.  A happy  thought  strikes 
him  ; he  suggests  gloomily,  that  only  a 
quiet  game  of  cards  at  the  Club  that  night> 
will  restore  his  nerves  to  their  normal  con- 
dition. His  wife  says,  perhaps,  after  all, 
they  have  had  enough,  and,  an  evening 
spent  at  home  together,  will  be  a nice 
change  for  all  this  excitement.  So,  exit 
married  man. 

And  is  it  any  wonder  that  men,  old  and 
young,  married  and  single,  should  regard 
Afternoon  Teas  as  delusions  and  snares  ? A 
wise  philosopher  has  said  “ feed  a man,  and 
he  is  won."  Were  oysters,  salad  and  cognac 
substituted  for  cold  punch,  cakes  and  al- 
monds, Afternoon  Teas  would  be  one  of 
the  most  popular  kinds  of  social  entertain- 
ments with  men,  and  women  would 
also  enjoy  them  more — for  society  should 
be  composed  of  a happy  blending  of  both 
sexes. 


THE  SERVANT  GIRL  QUESTION. 


From  Another  Point  of  View. 

M.  Warren  Hale. 


By 

“Navy,  I ain’t  none  o’  yer  Irish  igr.oiints 
wot  can’t  rade  or  spill  a wurrd  currect.  In- 
dade  I ’m  akel  to  ther  bist  o’  ther  land,  bein’ 
Amirikin  born;  an’  we  can’t  hilp  where  our 
fardthers  and  mudhers  were  barn  before  us. 


An’  I know  me  rights  as  will  as  me  wrongs, 
I’m  not  goin’  ter  be  scthepped  on  an’  warked 
over,  by  inybody,  if  dhey  own  a house  wid 
two  rooms  in  it,  or  a brawn-stone  palace, 
wid  a couch  an’  foor.  It’s  warkin’  over  us 


THE  NO  NAME  MAGAZINE. 


96 


dhey  thry  to  do  al  der  time;  an’  dhere’s 
miny  a gurrl  vvud  stand  it,  yare  in  and  yare 
out;  but  her  name’s  not  Mary  Ann  Cassidy, 
now,  d’ye  moind  that  ? Dhough  me  name’s 
Cassidy,  I cud  be  as  Frinch  as  ther  Frinch- 
ist  maid  ye  iver  saw. 

“An’je’vebin  doin’  virry  bod  ther  last 
yare,  Dalia?  Shure  I’m  sorry  to  hare  it, 
fer  I’ve  bin  doin’  jist  iligant  mesilf.  Jist 
foine  ! Yer’d  hardly  belave  it,  I suppose 
not  havin’  cot  on  ter  ther  beyutiful  toimes 
to  be  had  be  a plan  o’  moine.  I may  say  I 
invinted  it  mesilf,  dhough  I’ll  lit  ye  into  it, 
if  ye'll  not  be  givin’  it  away  ter  iviry  Tom, 
Dick  and  Harry.  Lishen,  now,  it’s  fist 
dhis  : 

“Thray  or  four  gurrls  an’  mesilf  adpertise 
togither,  so  it  costs  ’ach  wan  av  us  only  a 
few  cints.  Ah!  whistnow,  shure  av  course, 
ye’ve  done  that,  but  dhe  sass  uv  ther  pud- 
din’s  ter  come.  Well,  ther  droves  uv  ’em 
we  say  cornin’  to  answer  ther  adpertise, 
while  we  sit  in  foine  sthoile  ter  recave  them. 
They  come  warkin’  common-loike,  an’  dhey 
rowl  up  in  dheir  kerridges,  an’  we  say  oil 
kinds  uv  sthyle  from  dher  hoigh  to  der  low. 
O it’s  a poor  adpertise  dhat  we  don’t  have 
fifty  colls  a day. 

“Will,  we  take  notice  uv  oil  uv  dhem,  prom- 
isin’, quite  grashus,  ter  go  ter  aich  uv  dhem. 
But  we’d  be  fools  ter  go  wid  dher  family  uv 
six,  at  sixtain  dollars,  whin  we  find  we  can 
go  ter  a family  uv  thray,  at  eightain.  I nivir 
go  where  dhere’s  other  gurrls  its  aginst  me 
principals.  It  interfares  wid  me — parqui- 
sits.  So,  as  I was  sayin’,  I ingage  wid  ’em 
all  fer  a wake.  An’  if  it’s  eightain  for  thirty- 
wan  days,  shure  ye  can  say  yersilf  it  pays 
ter  lave  after  a wake,  wid  four  dollars  an’  a 
half.  Dhen  I go  ter  anudder,  at  der  same 
rate. 

Sometimes,  indade  quite  often,  dhey  foind 
out  dhat  I wan’t  wurrk  mesilf  ter  dith,  fer 
der  loikes  uv  dhem,  an’  dhey  till  me  dhey 
don’t  want  me.  But  I hev  always  me  an- 
swer riddy,  dhat  I was  goin’  inyhow,  an’  I 
did’nt  want  dhem, 

“Will,  ye  can  see  fer  yers.lf,  dhat  it  pays 
pritty  will;  but  1 had  many  triles  befoor  I 
cot  on  ter  ther  foine  sehkame.  « 


“Dhere  was  Mrs.  Bryant  dhat  ingaged  me 
fer  a furrst-class  cook  an’  laundress.  She 
was  virry  mod  whin  I fried  dher  sthake,  but 
I said  dher  shmoke  from  a brile  nivir 
agrayed  wid  me  lungs,  and  I’d  do  it  fer 
nobody, — so  I tuk  up  me  bundle  an’  hat  an’ 
warked  oot,  wid  dher  brile  on  dher  stove. 
Dhere  was  Mrs.  Cook  had  had  a nagur  be 
foor  me.  Shure,  vvud  I shtayindher  house 
where  a black  nagur’d  shtayed.  And  Mrs. 
Smith  said  whin  I tould  her  I didn’t  loike 
children  dhat  she  didn’t  think  she’d  kill  iny 
of  dhem,  avin  ter  secure  me.  Ah  ! yis, 
shure,  she  sid  jist  dhat,  dhe  impident 
thramp  ! An'  Mrs.  Jones,  she  wanted  ter 
tache  me  how  to  make  brid  ! An’  I med  it 
befoor  she  was  borrn,  an’  if  she  didn’t  loike 
dhe  koind  I med,  shure  she  nidn’t  ate  it. 

“Dhen  I lift  Mrs.  Henry  becos  she  sid  dhe 
dishes  wuz  shticky.  An’  Mrs.  Rogers 
wanted  me  to  clane  silver;  sez  I,  “If  yez 
dhirty  it,  yez  can  clane  it!”  Dhere  was 
Mrs.  Flynn  kep  a dorg.  Wud  I fade  inny- 
body’s  baste  ? Huh  ! not  Mary  Ann  Cas- 
sidy. Mrs.  Phillips  I lift  becos  she’d  allow 
no  company,  but  wance  a wake.  An’  Mrs. 
Blank  didn’t  like  it,  whin  Barney  jist  helped 
himsilf  to  a drop  o’  sumpin’  from  dhe  boof- 
fay. 

“Shure,  these  aint  a whisper  o’  dhe  trou- 
bles I’ve  had  ! Dhe  women  were  dhat  up- 
pish to  ush  leddies;  we  could  hardly  coll 
our  souls  our  own.  But  now  if  I come  fer  a 
wake,  dhey’re  that  afraid  I may  go  sudden- 
like, dhat  butter  wuddint  milt  in  dher 
mouth,  Dhey’ll  do  harf  dhe  wurrk  thim- 
silves,  an’  be  so  swate  and  perlite,  ye’d 
think  I wus  dhe  woman  dhat  kipt  dhe 
house,  an’  dhey  was  de  lady  was  warking. 
But  I don’  lit  on,  I jist  do  as  I plaze,  an’ 
if  I don’  loike  a dhing,  I jist  lit  fly  about  it, 
an’  dhey  change  it  quick.  If  a dish  is  hard 
ter  clane,  I jist  drop  it.  If  dhe  foire  don’ 
burn  aisy,  I lit  it  go  out.  Shure,  dhey  can’t 
make  ye  wark  more  dhan  dhe  day,  an’  if 
dhe  washin’  ain’t  dhryteshure  it’s  wit;  an’ 
if  dhe  dinner  ain’t  riddy,  shure  khey’ll  wait 
till  it  is. 

“O,  I can  manage  dhem  foinly;  an’ if  ye 
want  to  live  aisy  an’  happy,  Dalia  Rafferty, 
jist  thry  it  an’  see.” 


97 


THE  NO  NAME  MAGAZINE. 


A BALTIMORE  BELLE. 


The  reputation  of  Baltimore  for  beautiful 
women  is  world  renowned.  *Our  belles  have 
won  coronets,  graced  the  courts  of  Europe, 
and  one  at  least  almost  reached  a throne. 
“Nothing  is  so  rare  as  beauty  of  the  high 
type,”  says  Bulwer,  “Few  persons  can  re- 
member to  have  seen  more  than  four  or  five 
specimens  of  the  first-rate  ideal  beauty.” 
We  have  had  in  Baltimore,  within  the  mem- 
ory of  persons  still  living,  two  or  three  su- 
premely beautiful  women — women  who  only 
wanted  a larger  field  to  win  the  immortal 
renown  of  a Cleopatra,  a Helen  of  Troy,  or 
a Mary  Stuart. 

Loveliness  of  face  and  form  seems  to  be 
hereditary  in  the  fair  daughters  of  the  Monu- 
mental City.  The  average  Baltimorean  is 
sometimes  indifferent  to  the  claims  of  liter- 
ature and  art,  but  all  are  proud  of  the 
“special  endowment  of  beauty”  possessed 
by  their  sisters  and  daughters.  And  they 
are  right,  for  does  not  Miss  Mulock  say, 
“There  is  an  extraordinary  fascination,  half 
of  soul,  half  of  sense,  which  breathes  in  the 
very  atmosphere  of  a beautiful  woman.” 
Sir  Walter  Scott,  describing  Minnah  Troil, 
in  “The  Pirate,”  says  she  possesses  the 
combined  beauty  of  the  tropic  and  the  tem- 
perate zones.  So  in  the  Baltimore  girls 
the  blonde  and  brunette  are  exquisitely 
blended — 

For  all  that's  best  of  dark  and  bright 

Meet  in  their  aspect  and  their  eyes. 

You  identify  a Baltimore  girl  by  a certain 
frank  gentleness,  by  an  absence  of  preten- 
sion, and  by  the  sweetest  and  most  natural 
attractions  of  her  sex.  She  has  not  the 
hardihood  nor  style  of  her  New  York  rivals, 
there  is  less  of  general  aspect,  but  far  more 
of  homebred  and  feminine  grace.  She  is 
thoroughly  amiable,  her  smile  is  winning, 
her  costume  modest,  her  voice  “gentle  and 
low — an  excellent  thing  in  woman,”  With- 
out the  mental  culture  of  the  Bostonian,  or 
the  exclusively  tasteful  charm  of  the  Phila- 
delphian, there  is  something  more  girlish 
quietly  cheerful  and  unconsciously  pleasanl 


about  her.  Her  affability  is  caught  from 
habitual  intercourse  with  domestic  charac- 
ters, from  truly  social,  friendly  relations 
and  not  from  promiscuous  or  showy  asso- 
ciations. She  makes  you  think  of  a happy 
fireside  and  a loving  companion,  you  imag- 
ine her  name  to  be  Mary,  and  think  it  would 
be  the  most  natural  and  charming  thing  in 
the  world  to  make  it  vour  household  word. 
She  does  not  seem  in  the  least  ambitious, 
or  hackneyed,  or  complacent,  but  altogether 
the  most  delectable  of  “human  nature’s 
daily  food”  without  the  remote  possibility 
of  ever  becoming  either  a blue-stocking,  a 
shrew,  or  a strong-minded  woman.  In  a 
word,  she  is  lovable.  Whether  it  is  owing 
to  the  medium  latitude  of  Baltimore,  not  so 
far  south  as  to  induce  languor,  nor  so  far 
north  as  to  generate  over  activity,  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  say  but  certain  it  is,  that  the  women 
of  this  city  unite  the  graces  of  the  sex  more 
harmoniously  than  those  of  any  other 
American  metropolis.  They  are  less  angu- 
lar, emphatic,  knowing,  and  more  feminine, 
affectionate  and  ingenuous  than  our  other 
belles.  Seldom  brilliant,  they  are  invaria- 
bly lovely,  fair  to  look  upon,  pleasant  to 
know;  and  seem  at  once,  like  Desdetnona’s 
idol,  good  to  “live  with,”  and,  as  she  was 
to  her  dusky  lord,  a comfort  to  which  no 
parallel  “succeeds  in  unknown  fate”  “The 
Highland  Mary”  of  Burns,  the  “Lucy”  of 
Wordsworth,  and  the  “Miller’s  Daugh- 
ter,” of  Tennyson,  suggest  no  image  which 
clashes  with  the  impression  we  derive  from 
a genuine  Baltimore  beauty  in  girlhood, but 
who  can  associate  either  with  the  clever, 
self-possessed  Bostonian,  or  the  flashy, 
worldly  wise  Gothamite  ? There  is  not 
much  in  the  way  of  chivalrous  or  romantic 
ideas  connected  with  Baltimore,  the  liber- 
ality of  her  Catholic  founder,  the  wonderful 
genius  of  Poe,  the  graphic  pen  of  Kennedy, 
the  legal  fame  of  Pinkney,  and  the  few  but 
graceful  poems  of  his  namesake,  may,  in- 
deed, recall  a degree  of  local  inspiration: 
but  in  most  memories  it  is  her  gentle, 


THE  NO  NAME  MAGAZINE. 


98 


kindly  and  lovely  woman  that  redeem  her 
name.  A bevy  of  these,  last  year,  justly 
carried  away  the  palm  at  Newport;  their 
manners,  looks  and  spirits  were  in  such  at- 
tractive contrast  to  the  more  confident  pre- 
tenders to  belleship.  We  see  yet  where 
their  poet,  in  former  days,  found  the  im- 
pulse to  that  “Health”  he  wrote  “to  one 
made  up  of  loveliness  alone.” 

We  recall  one  who  is  the  daughter  of  one 


LORENZO  THE 

Lorenzo  the  Magnificent  was  not  only  one 
of  the  most  extraordinary  men  of  his  own 
time,  but  of  all  time.  Seldom,  if  evei,  have 
so  many  splendid  and  opposite  qualities 
been  united  in  the  same  person.  He  was  a 
prince  and  a merchant,  a poet  and  a politi- 
cian, a soldier  and  a philosopher,  a scholar 
and  a statesman,  an  orator  and  a diploma- 
tist, a student  and  a banker,  a patron  of  lit- 
erature and  a man  of  letters.  His  name  was 
known  and  respected  all  over  Europe, 
through  Asia  and  the  northern  part  of  Af 
rica  Kings  sought  his  friendship  and  al- 
liance. Christian,  King  of  Denmark  and 
Sweden,  visited  him,  and  being  shown  the 
treasures  of  the  Laurentian  Library,  which 
was  founded  by  Cosmo  de  Medici  and  en- 
riched by  his  grandson,  Lorenzo, — he  said 
such  things  were  the  real  treasures  of  a 
country.  Mahomet  II.,  the  Conqueror  of 
Constantinople,  arrested  Bernardo  Bandini, 
one  of  the  leading  spirits  in  the  conspiracy 
of  the  Pazzi,  who  had  escaped  to  that  city, 
and  sent  him  in  chains  to  Florence,  saying 
that  he  did  so  on  account  of  his  respect  for 
Lorenzo  de  Medici. 

It  was  said  of  the  all-accomplished  Caesar 
that,  had  he  devoted  himself  exclusively  to 
oratory  he  might  have  rivalled  Cicero.  So, 
had  Lorenzo  devoted  himself  exclusively  to 
poetry,  he  might  have  rivalled  the  great 
masters  of  Italian  song.  By  some  of  his  con- 
temporaries, he  was  so  considered.  Picoof 
Mirandula,  in  an  elaborate  discussion  ofhis 
writings,  does  not  hesitate  to  declare  that 
they  possess  the  vigor  of  Dante'  and  the 


of  the  proudest  families  of  Maryland.  Her 
ancestor  was  one  of  the  bravest  of  the  gen- 
tlemen of  Maryland,  who  flocked  to  the 
camp  of  Washington  and  formed  the  famous 
Old  Maryland  Line.  She  is  known  in  the 
very  best  circles  of  London,  Paris,  Florence 
and  Rome,  having  passed  several  years 
abroad  in  acquiring  a knowledge  of  music 
and  the  languages. 


MAGNIFICENT. 

sweetness  of  Petrarch,  and,  in  some  particu- 
lars, are  superiors  to  the  works  of  those 
eminent  poets.  Another  contemporary 
writer,  Crescimbini,  says  that  Italian  poetry 
was  carried  to  such  perfection  by  the  genius 
of  Petrarch,  that  not  being  capable  of  further 
improvement,  it  soon  began,  in  the  course 
of  all  earthly  things,  to  decline,  and  was  on 
the  point  of  reverting  to  its  original  barbar- 
ity, when,  “a  person  arose  who  preserved 
it  from  ruin,  and  who  snatched  it  from  the 
dangerous  precipice  that  seemed  to  await 
it.  This  was  Lorenzo  de  Medici,  from  whose 
abilities  it  received  that  support  of  which  it 
then  stood  so  greatly  in  need;  who  amidst 
the  thickest  gloom  of  that  barbarism  which 
had  spread  itself  throughout  Italy, exhibited, 
whilst  yet  a youth,  a simplicity  of  style,  a 
purity  of  language,  a happiness  of  versifi- 
cation, a propriety  of  poetical  ornament, 
and  a fullness  of  sentiment  that  recalled 
once  more  the  graces  and  sweetness  of 
Petrarch.” 

It  should,  also,  be  remembered  that  Lo- 
renzo’s poetry  was  the  amusement  of  hours 
snatched  from  the  cares  of  state  and  en- 
grossing commercial  business, while  Dante' 
and  Petrarch  devoted  long  livesto  literary 
pursuits  and  had  leisure  to  correct  and  pol- 
ish their  writings.  The  magnificent  Lorenzo 
, devoted  much  of  his  wealth  to  the  collecting 
of  gems,  pictures  and  statues,  to  the  form- 
ing of  museums,  libraries  and  academies,  to 
the  erecting  of  churches  and  palaces,  and 
Florence  became  the  most  beautiful  capital 
in  Europe.  Ail  this  was  accomplished  by  a 
man  who  died  at  the  early  age  of  forty-four. 


99 


THE  NO  NAME  MAGAZINE. 


OLD  VIRGINIA  SOCIETY. 

By  Eugene  L.  Didier. 


When  Thackeray  wished  to  describe  a 
perfect  lady  and  gentleman,  he  selected 
them  from  the  Virginia  society  of  the  last 
century.  On  the  walls  of  the  stately  draw- 
ing-rooms of  Brandon,  Shirley,  and  other 
ancient  country-seats  on  the  James  River, 
may  be  seen  the  representations  of  that 
picturesque  old  Virginia  society  whose 
counterpart  was  not  to  be  found  in  North 
America.  There  Evelyn  Byrd  may  be  seen, 
the  fairest  daughter  of  her  illustrious  house, 
in  all  that  youthful  beauty  and  freshness 
which  made  her  the  wonder  and  the  delight 
of  the  Court  of  England  when  that  Court  was 
graced  by  the  fascinating  Lady  Mary  Wort- 
ley  Montagu  and  Lady  Rich  — “seraphic 
Rich,  in  whose  angel  form  all  the  sweet 
graces  were  joined.”  The  lovely  young 
Virginian  captivated  an  earl  by  her  wit  and 
beauty,  but,  alas,  “the  course  of  true  love” 
did  not  “run  smooth,”  and  in  the  tender 
grace  of  her  beautiful  but  mournful  counte- 
nance, we  read  the  story  of  a disappoint- 
ment in  love  which  carried  the  fair  Evelyn 
to  an  early  grave.  Fortunately,  such  mel- 
ancholy cases  were  rare,  for  few  Virginia 
girls  went  abroad  in  the  olden  time,  and, 
therefore,  seldom  met  fascinating  English 
earls. 

The  fair  Virginians,  though  fond  of  ad- 
miration— as  all  true  women  are — have  al- 
ways been  true  to  their  loves.  A thousand 
cases  illustrate  this,  in  the  past  and  in  the 
present.  The  greatest  coquette,  the  most 
brilliant  belle,  the  most  consummate  flirt, 
when  united  to  the  man  of  her  choice,  be- 
comes a peerless  Virginia  dame,  fit  wife 
and  mother  of  heroes,  statesmen  and  presi- 
dents. The  annals  of  the  Old  Dominion 
are  full  of  such  women.  In  the  rooms 
of  the  Virginia  Historical  Society,  at  Rich- 
mond, are  several  pictures  of  Pocahontas. 
They  are  not  claimed  to  be  authentic  like- 
nesses of  the  “fawn  of  the  forest,”  and  they 
do  not  recall  the  traditional  beauty  of  the 
gentle  Indian  girl — 


"Our  own  dear  Pocahontas, 

The  Virgin  Queen  of  the  West, 

With  the  heart  of  a Christian  hero 
In  a timid  maiden’s  breast,” 

who,  marrying  Master  John  Rolfe,  became 
the  high-born  mother  of  a high-born  race, 
whose  princely  Indian  blood,  after  coursing 
through  a dozen  generations  is  still  visible 
in  some  of  the  best  ladies  of  Virginia. 

The  Virginia  girl  was  carefully  protected 
from  all  rudeness;  her  native  modesty  was 
never  shocked  by  anything  coarse;  her  gen- 
tle dignity  was  never  ruffled  by  contact  with 
the  rough  and  unrefined, — in  that  the  di- 
vinity that  doth  hedge  a king  was  hers. 
Hence,  that  exquisite  delicacy,  which  is  the 
greatest  charm  of  woman,  has  always  been 
a distinguishing  characteristic  of  the  fair 
Virginian,  past  and  present.  Daring,  in- 
deed, the  man  who  attempted  any  familiar- 
ity with  the  aristocratic,  cordial,  but  digni- 
fied ladies  of  the  Old  Dominion.  Their 
manners,  however,  have  not  that  cold, 
deadly  repose 

“Which  stamps  the  caste  of  Vere  de  Vere.'' 

Bulwer  said  he  “never  met  a real  woman 
—never  met  a woman  who  was  not  a sham, 
a sham  from  the  moment  she  is  told  to  be" 
have  prettily,  conceal  her  sentiments, 
and  look  fibs,  if  she  does  not  speak  them.” 
Had  the  dandy  novelist  followed  the  ex- 
ample of  his  greatest  contemporary,  Thack- 
eray, and  visited  Virginia,  he  might  have 
met  among  the  descendants  of  old  Virginia 
society  more  than  one  real  woman.  Theie 
are  in  Richmond  to-day,  real,  true,  genuine 
women — women,  whose  loveliness  merits 
the  praise  of  De  Quincy,  that  “life  owes 
half  its  attractions  and  all  its  graces  to  fe- 
male companionship.” 

Those  old  Virginia  gentlemen  were  gen- 
erous livers — in  fact,  they  lived  too  gener- 
ously to  live  long,  Short  and  merry  were 
their  lives;  few  reached  the  age  of  three- 
score; most  of  them  died  between  fifty  and 
sixty.  But  what  splendid  fellows  they 
were  ! What  an  elegant,  luxurious  exis- 


THE  NO  NAME  MAGAZINE. 


ioo 


tence  was  theirs  ! Lord  of  ten  thousand 
acres,  with  troops  of  obedient  slaves  to  do 
his  will,  the  Virginia  cavalier  was  the  most 
independent  gentleman  in  the  world.  See 
him, sitting  on  his  wide  portico, smoking  the 
choicest  tobacco,  raised  on  his  own  planta- 
tion, and  holding  in  his  hands  a volume  of 
the  Spectator , the  last  poem  of  Mr.  Pope, 
the  last  satire  of  the  terrible  Dr.  Swift,  or 
some  other  literary  production  of  the  golden 
age  of  Queen  Anne.  He  is  clothed  in  rich 
velvet,  with  white  silk  stockings,  lace  ruf- 
fles, long  waistcoat,  Spanish  leather  shoes 
and  wears  an  elegant  cocked  hat.  His  hair 
is  powdered,  brushed  back  from  his  fore- 
head, and  tied  behind.  His  smile  was 
courtly,  his  manners  polished  but  formal, 
his  hospitality  royal  in  its  magnificence; 
his  house  was  large,  and  its  owner  was 
never  happier  than  when  presiding  over  a 
crowded  table,  except  when  mounted  on 
his  favorite  hunter,  and  leading  a gallant 
company  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  in  a fox 
hunt,  with  the  merry  music  of  the  bugle 
ringing  in  his  ears.  His  stable  was  full  of 
thorough-breds;  for  the  old  Virginia  gentle- 
man spent  many  hours  every  day  in  the 
saddle;  and,  on  Sunday,  he  rolled  gravely 
to  church  in  his  family  carriage,  with  its 
four  well-groomed  horses. 

Williamsburg,  the  colonial  capital  of  Vir- 
ginia, was  a place  of  stately  ceremonies, 
vice-regal  balls,  gorgeous  costumes,  and 
decorous  dullness.  The  old  Virginia  gentle- 
man only  went  there  when  important  busi- 
ness called  him, or  when  he  happened  to  be 
a member  of  the  House  of  Burgesses,  He 
preferred  the  lordly  ease  and  profusion  of  his 
baronial  estate,  where  he  lived  like  a king. 
But  his  eldest  son  and  heir-apparent  (for  the 
unjust  feudal  law  of  primogeniture  prevailed 
in  Virginia  prior  to  the  American  Revolu- 
tion) eagerly  exchanged  the  monotonous 
country  life  for  the  gayety  of  Williamsburg. 
He  was  not  the  same  bluff",  hearty,  jolly, 
good-natured  fellow  as  his^  father,  The 
young  squire  had  been  educated  at  Oxford, 
had  enjoyed  a gay  season  in  London,  where 
he  had  known  my  Lord  Chesterfield,  had 


danced  with  the  beautiful  Miss  Gunning 
and  played  cards  with  the  young  Earl  o^ 
March,  who  lived  to  be  the  old  Duke  of 
Queensbury,  the  infamous  satyr  of  the  Lon- 
don clubs.  The  young  Virginian  preferred 
the  brilliant  life  of  London  to  the  studious 
life  of  Oxford.  He  was  more  a man  of  fashion 
than  a man  of  letters — had  cultivated  the 
graces  more  than  the  classics — was  more  at 
home  in  the  club  and  the  drawing  room 
than  in  the  library  and  lecture-room.  He 
was  an  adept  in  horse-races,  and  had  paid 
dear  for  his  experience.  In  dress,  he  was 
peerless,  and  astonished  his  sisters  and 
younger  brothers  by  the  number  and  beauty 
of  his  costumes,  representing  the  latest 
style  of  Bond  Street  and  St,  James.  He 
wore  a powdered  peruke,  with  a queue  of 
marvellous  length  and  tied  with  a gay  rib- 
bon. His  cheeks  are  rosy,  not  like  his 
father’s  from  constant  exercise  in  the  open 
air,  combined  with  generous  old  port  after 
dinner,  but  they  are  delicately  rouged,  a 
fashion  recently  introduced  from  France. 
This  "pretty  fellow”  and  “roystering  blade” 
wears  a maroon-colored  coat,  richly  em- 
broidered, with  the  turn-back  c^ffs,  made 
familiar  by  the  pictures  of  Hogarth;  his 
vest  is  of  velvet,  flowered  in  gold;  his  lace 
is  the  most  delicate  Flanders;  his  panta- 
loons are  of  blue  satin;  his  stockings  are 
of  scarlet  silk,  tied  by  red  velvet  garters 
clasped  by  diamond  buckles.  Spanish 
leather  shoes,  with  heels  three  inches  high, 
complete  the  costumeofthe  Virginia  Adonis 
of  the  eighteenth  century. 

Thus  bravely  attired,  with  his  exquisite 
snuff-box  and  cocked  hat  with  its  gay 
feather,  our  young  Virginian  appeared  at 
Williamsburg  on  pleasure  and  conquest  bent 
Ke  could  tread  the  measured  steps  of  the 
minuet  with  grace  and  dignity,  bow  with 
consummate  ease  and  elegance  over  a lady’s 
soft  white  hand,  while  whispering  a well- 
timed  compliment  in  her  willing  ear.  But 
when  the  time  for  action  came,  and  Patrick 
Henry,  in  thunder  tones,  called  upon  Vir- 
ginians to  resist  oppression  by  force,  this 
seemingly  effeminate  dandy  responded  with 


I 


ioi  THE  NO  NAME  ’MAGAZINE. 


alacrity  to  the  call,  and  showed  that  he  was 
able  and  willing  to  wield  the  sword,  prov 
ing  upon  numerous  battle-fields  that  the 
blood  of  the  cavaliers  was  not  turned  to 
water. 

As  we  began  by  speaking  of  the  lovely 
dames  of  Virginia,  so  we  are  irresistibly 
drawn  to  them  in  concluding  this  article. 
Let  us  assume  the  privilege  of  a chronicler, 
and  attend  one  of  the  stately  colonial  balls 
at  Williamsburg.  The  best  society  of  old 
Virginia  was  there,  but  the  best  and  most 
attractive  portion  of  it  were  the  beautiful 
daughters  of  those  ancient  families  that  had 
for  nearly  two  hundred  years  been  the  mas- 
ters of  princely  domains.  Take  one  as  the 
representative  of  all  the  fair  throng.  See 
her  as  she  moves  with  rare  grace  through 
the  favorite  Virginia  dance — how  bright  her 
eyes — how  truly  refined  each  movement  — 
what  sweetness  in  that  glance — how  daintily 
she  steps  along  the  glossy  floor— what  a rich 


costume?  Shall  we  describe  it  ? The  hair 
which  falls  in  graceful  curls  over  a neck  of 
snowy  whiteness  is  all  her  own — so  is  the 
lovely  color  in  her  cheek.  Around  her 
slender,  shapely  throat  we  see  the  costly 
pointe  de  Venise  lace,  yellow,  as  was  then 
the  fashion;  her  cherry-colored  silk  bodice 
sets  off  the  matchless  beauty  of  her  figure. 
The  ample  sleeves  fell  over  an  alabaster 
arm,  delicately  tapered;  the  underskirt  was 
of  flowered  satin,  and  the  gown  was  looped 
back,  and  fell  in  large  furbelows  to  the 
dainty  feet,  which  were  encased  in  white 
satin  slippers,  with  heels  two  inches  high. 
Her  ornaments  were  rings,  bracelets  and 
brooches  of  gold  and  precious  stones. 

That  fair  Virginian  has  long  since  danced 
her  last  minuet — she  played  her  part  well 
in  society,  and  in  woman’s  truest,  sweetest 
world,  the  home  circle — and  all  that  re- 
mains to  tell  us  she  once  lived  is  the  sweet 
memory  of  her  kept  alive  by  family  tra- 
ditions and  filial  love. 


:o: 

WORTH,  THE  MAN-MILLINER  OF  PARIS. 


Ambassadors  and  court-ladies  go  to 
take  tea  with  the  fellow,  and  dispute  the 
honor  of  filling  his  cup  or  putting  sugar  into 
jt.  I once  went  into  his  shop — a sort  of 
drawing-room  hung  round  with  dresses;  I 
found  him  lolling  on  a chair,  his  legs  before 
the  fire.  Around  him  were  a bevy  of 
women,  some  pretty,  some  uglv,  listening 
to  his  observations  with  the  rapt  attention 
of  the  disciples  of  a sage.  He  called  them 
up  before  him  like  school-girls,  and,  after 
inspecting  them,  praised  or  blamed  their 
dresses.  One,  a pretty  young  girl,  found 
favor  in  his  eyes,  and  he  told  her  that  he 
must  dream  and  meditate  several  days  over 
her,  in  order  to  find  the  inspiration  to  make 
a gown  worthy  of  her.  “Why  do  you  wear 
these  ugly  gloves?”  he  said  to  another; 
“never  let  me  see  you  in  gloves  of  that 
color  again.”  She  was  a very  grand  lady, 
but  she  slipped  off  her  gloves,  and  put  them 


in  her  pocket  with  a guilty  look.  When 
there  was  going  to  be  a ball  at  court,  ladies 
used  to  go  down  on  their  knees  to  him  to 
make  them  beautiful.  For  some  time  hp 
declined  to  dress  any  longer  the  wife  of  a 
great  imperial  dignitary  who  had  not  been 
sufficiently  humble  toward  him;  she  came  to 
him  in  tears,  but  he  was  obdurate,  and  he 
only  consented  at  last  to  make  a gown  for 
her  on  condition  that  she  would  put  it  on 
for  the  first  time  in  his  shop.  The  empress 
who  dealt  with  him,  sent  to  tell  him  that  if 
he  did  not  abate  his  prices  she  would  leave 
him.  “You  cannot,”  he  replied,  and,  in 
fact,  she  could  not,  for  she  stood  by  him  to 
the  last,  A morning  dress  by  this  artist, 
worth  in  reality  about  four  pounds,  cost 
thirty  pounds;  an  evening  dress,  tawdry 
with  flounces,  ribbons,  and  bad  lace,  could 
not  be  had  under  seventy  pounds. 


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